


Howling

by Path



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-26
Updated: 2011-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Path/pseuds/Path
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not the fact that Die moans constantly the second you touch him. What pisses you off is that he gets constantly harassed by the rest of the Felt for it afterwards. Things'd be a lot simpler if you could just find a way for him to can it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Howling

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on the Carapace Kink Meme I forgot to archive here.
> 
>  _Die's loud in bed, Crowbar has to find ways to keep him quiet or he'll wake everyone up._

"Die, shut the fuck up."

"Shut up or I'll stop."

"Die, if you don't shut it..."

Nothing really works. It just gets him off more. You've always been entranced by it, by the fact that from the moment you first touch him to the last straining gasps against your hand or mouth, Die is moaning, crying out, repeating your name when he's thinking straight, whimpering shaky obscenities, and just generally being loud enough to wake the Boss.

It's not the moaning that's pissing you off. It's the harassment. Itchy doesn't need a reason to stir shit up, because he'll do it without prompting. For the last little while, he's been unbearable, constant aggressive immature pestering and faux sly knowing, making sure everyone in the world knows that you're fucking Die and Die is taking it like a total virgin every night. You always top Die- of course you do. You're the leader, in the absence of Snowman, Scratch, and the Boss Himself, and being in charge of thirteen others still makes you in charge.

And this embarrassment is getting out of control. Not as badly as it'd be if you were the one taking it, of course, but you don't swing that way, and besides, that's just not a leaderly thing to do. So the harassment is really more on Die than you. You get Itchy's sharp little elbow in your side and a smug wink before he vanishes, but Die gets unceasing suggestion, proposition, randomly felt up (yeah, haha, real funny) by gang members he can't even see. He's taken to lurking in timelines where everyone's dead and staying there until the aggressive parties move on.

You don't even know who it is, though there's a couple of likely, shark-faced candidates you're going to have words and beatings with as soon as they leave the least implication.

So it's night now, and you slunk into Die's room as usual, enjoying the way he just melts into a shivering puddle as soon as you run a hand along his shoulders. You stripped him down, bit by bit, removing all his protection and his safety in obsessive tidiness, smirking into wide sleepless eyes and laughing silently as he clasps close to you.

And now you've got him bent over the bed, long fingers gripping- one hand into his doll and one into the blankets. You always let him keep the thing nearby; you think he might shatter into a huddled wreck in a corner if you moved it more than a foot away.

And of course he's waking Lord English.

He's biting his own hand to try to keep it down, only too aware what his noise brings him later, but he forgets so quickly, and soon he's moaning around it and crying your name and goddamn if it isn't the hottest thing you've ever experienced but he needs to fucking shut up or he'll just keep living in misery as long as it continues.

And you've tried damn near everything. A gag doesn't actually stop his sound, it just makes it unintelligible. It's impossible.

Die clutches the doll as you rock against him, growling at him to keep it down. In response, he just lets out another wobbly wail. It's kind of infuritating; he moans, you tell him to shut it, it turns him on more, he moans more, you get angry, you take it out on him, he gets off on it.... the circle of stupid keeps looping.

You lean over and grab his wrists, pinning him down on the bed below you. He seizes up, like he does every time, and you speed up inside him. Die of course lets out a long stream of "Oh god, Crowbar, come on, please, please, fuck me, oh my god," and lets the Midnight Crew downtown know how great you are in the sack. It makes you want to smack him just as much as it makes you want to fuck him forever.

You end up grabbing the only thing nearby just as he's getting to how fucking amazingly big your cock feels inside him. You stuff it in his mouth without thinking, and Die completely freezes.

Like magic.

His eyes are even wider and more incredulous than usual, his limbs frozen, his cock jumping suddenly against the blankets and nothing at all coming from his mouth.

You give an experimental thrust into him and a slight whimper comes out, muffled. A second thrust, an equally quiet whimper. Perfect.

You begin again, going from nothing and speeding up slowly, so slowly you think you're about to finish the whole time, and it's only your unceasing rhythm and the desire to completely wreck Die that holds you back.

Halfway, you flip him over, a long line of precum trailing from his dick. There's a small puddle below where you'd had him. You grin, catch the trail with a finger and trace it back to the tip, touching it with just your forefinger and laughing as Die flushes forest green and strains against you. You bury yourself back in him again and he stays silent, though he trembles when you touch him and his shaft is hardened steel in your hand.

He doesn't last more than a few strokes, coming immediately with an almost-silent gasp, eyes wide and staring emptily upward as he arches, throwing his head back. You are right behind him, taking the last few seconds to ram repeatedly into him and bring yourself screaming to a finish.

You lock your arms to either side of him and hang your head to catch your breath. Die, beneath you, is eerily silent, obviously exhausted, and trembling still, twitches of leftover energy firing at random through him.

As an afterthought, you take the doll out of his mouth. He has trouble getting his teeth unlocked from it.

Then you collapse, and all in all, things are pretty damn amazing until the next morning, when Itchy sidles up to you and asks if you finally switched things up last night, because oh boy, that was some howling out of you. He didn't think Die had it in him.

You are going to ask Die if you can borrow his doll. And then you are going to shove it down Itchy's throat.


End file.
